The Great Salvation, or The Death of Man
by Luna Winters
Summary: Myrnin/Claire. Will either be a collection of oneshots, some smutty, some fluffy, some not so, or will be an epic never-ending tale of trials and tribulations etc. Haven't quite decided yet :)


_Short oneshot which I may or may not expand into a full-blown Myrnin/Claire epic. If I don't do that I may just continue to use this as a oneshot dump - they seem to be pouring out of me left right and centre at the moment, much to the detriment of my college courseworks. Ah, well. Let me know what you think I should do! :)_

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><p><em>The scream tore its way out of Claire's chest, a wordless sound of human misery that rent the air around her. Ruthless, sweaty, clawed hands were twisting at her guts; hot waves of sickness crashed over her body, heart lurching sickeningly with every other beat as if it might stop altogether. Her whole frame shook as her gaze fixed on one point ahead of her. It was the fulcrum on which her whole life balanced, yet she was restrained, unable to move. <em>

_She'd been here before, many times, but each time felt real to her. It seemed that her soul was laid out again and new wounds were flayed in it. The pain was fresh. _

_His body lay a few feet away from where she knelt on the floor, face turned away. There was so much blood surrounding him, still spreading out on either side of his body like gruesome wings. His heart had stopped beating now but the blood was still draining from his body, the precious lifeblood thicker and darker than the rest. The edges of the pool had already begun to coagulate. _

_She knew he was dead, this time. The first time it had happened she had refused to accept it, had continued to give him CPR until his lips had gone blue and they'd had to drag her off the body. _

_Myrnin had held her back then just like he was holding her now. Sometimes she felt safe in his wiry grip, other times she fought it just like she had then, when her fingernails had gouged his flesh until she had torn great gashes in it, and her fingers and palms had come away stained with his blood. He hadn't said a word, hadn't let her go. He'd just let her scream out her misery, even when she said she hated him and that she wished it was him lying there instead of Shane. _

_She hadn't meant that, of course. At the time she would have rather it had been anyone else - Eve, Michael, herself - even her own parents. _

_But nothing could change it. Nothing. _

_Not wishes, prayers, curses. She had screamed until her throat bled, torn at the skin of her face and pulled out her own her in misery. He was still gone. Dead. _

_And now she was here again, with a horrible sense of dread in the pit of her stomach as she reached out a trembling hand to touch Shane's shoulder, tugging to roll his body towards her. _

_His head lolled horribly on his shoulders, and she screamed when his face fell towards her. It was clear that he had been dead for some time. It was like something out of a horror movie, which didn't make it any less terrifying. _

_His flesh was rotting and putrid, well into the process of decay. Maggots writhed in the half-digested mulch of his skin, which was bruised and bubbled like overripe fruit. His eyes were sunken into their sockets, yellow and shrivelled. They stared at Claire with no hint of recognition, no warmth. He had no lips anymore; they had been eaten away at, revealing a set of distorted teeth protruding from bone-white gums and bared in a grin which made Claire's gut shudder. _

_Claire stared in horror for a second before she realised that his mandible was moving; she could hear him wheezing, laughing at her in an unnatural, hoarse voice. His deadened eyes followed her as she flinched back from him, accusing her as she retreated to the safety of Myrnin's arms. His features twisted in an horrific malevolent snarl, his limbs beginning to move clumsily as he tried to speak, air hissing out through a ruined, decayed throat,_

_"Claire..."_

She woke screaming, drenched in cold sweat, staring wildly of into the darkness of her room as she listened to her heartbeat thrumming madly in her ears. For a moment she thought she could hear the rasp of Shane's breath somewhere in the room, and imagined his deadweight pressing into her as he tried to drag himself up the bed, hands reaching for her throat...

Claire shook her head violently and whimpered, sitting up and clutching the sheet to her chin with trembling hands. She stared wide eyed into the dark for a moment, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. There was nothing.

Claire lunged to the side suddenly, flicking the switch on her bedside lamp, flooding the room with light. She shut her eyes against the brightness for a second, then opened them again.

Nothing. There was no one.

She drew her knees up to her chest and let out a sob, tears quickly filling her eyes. Her heart, her whole body ached with loneliness.

The room was silent and cold without the warmth of his body next to her, or the gentle sound of his snore in the air.

He had been gone three months, now. Twelve weeks. That was eighty four days, or two thousand and sixteen hours that she had missed him. Each passing day had felt like a slow torture for her; another turn of the screw. And she had the rest of her life to live without him.

Claire didn't think she could do it. She missed him, she missed everything about him. His voice, his warmth, his smell. She could remember it now, almost taste him on her tongue.

He was still there in her mind; that was the only place he would ever be, now, and she clung desperately to the memory of him.

She hugged herself, and tried not to think about tomorrow, when she would start work again for the first time since Shane...since it happened. She had seen Myrnin only a handful of times in the last twelve weeks, mostly when she had been summoned to see Amelie. He had tried to visit her at first, in the first week after it had happened, had tried calling her and had even come to the house, but she had refused to see him, unable to face talking to him. Claire knew how tactless he could be sometimes, and also knew that he had never cared about Shane. Anything he said would have hurt; if he'd lied and said he was sorry, or if he'd acted like nothing had happened. She didn't know which would have been worse.

She guessed she would find out tomorrow.

Claire reached out and switched the light out again, plunging the room back into darkness. She sighed and sank back down into her covers, turning onto her side to stare at the space on her pillow where Shane's head had rested countless times.

He'd slept right there, next to her, the very night before he died. Both of them had been unaware that it would be the last night they shared together, the very last time that they touched each other's bodies. It had been the last time they had whispered 'I love you' to each other, and Claire felt her heart swell in the cage of her chest, as though trying to break into a million little pieces at the thought. A million splintered, broken pieces, and no way to fix it.

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><p><em>I'm fully aware how shite that was as an ending, but really, what do you want from a oneshot? If I'd continued this there would have been too much garble to get through before we got to anything meaty, and I don't know about you but I couldn't wait that long. On the other hand, I may post all the garble next chapter, so watch out ;)<em>


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